Why I Started Writing Letters to My Daughter

 When I became a mom, I thought I would remember everything.

The first words. Favorite snacks. Funny phases. Tiny habits.

Turns out motherhood moves faster than I ever imagined.

Some days are so full of being needed that bedtime arrives before I’ve had a chance to sit with the day we just lived. And somewhere along the way, I realized something that scared me a little: I was already forgetting pieces of this season while I was still living it.

Not the big milestones.

The little things.

The way she wants to be held while I try to do literally everything. The strawberry-blonde hair with that reddish tint when the sunlight hits it just right. The funny obsessions, routines, and habits that feel exhausting now but will probably be the things I miss later.

So I started writing letters.

Not because I’m especially organized. Not because I think I’ll remember everything. Mostly because I know memory fades, and motherhood deserves more than whatever survives in my camera roll.

These letters became my way of slowing down.

A way to remember not just what happened — but who she was becoming, who I was becoming, and what our life looked like in the middle of it all.

The letters are private. They’re for us.

But the reason behind them isn’t.

Because if motherhood has taught me anything, it’s this: the ordinary moments disappear the fastest.

So I write them down.

Someday, these letters will become a time capsule of this season of life — for both of us.